Heir Of Night
by Moon Reborn
Summary: What if the Southern Raiders had taken more than just her mother? The story of a young waterbender who fled, and found a master in the most unlikely of places. She was trained to fight, and she was trained to kill. Zutara.
1. The Southern Water Tribe

What if the Southern Raiders had taken more than just her mother? The story of a young waterbender who fled, and found a master in the most unlikely of places. She was trained to fight, and she was trained to kill.

* * *

Chapter 1

_The Southern Water Tribe_

* * *

Prince Zuko stood at the bow of his ship, the frigid southern air easily biting through his armour. His knuckles gripped the steel, his golden eyes scanning the horizon.

"Nephew," Iroh spoke behind him, bringing his robe closer as a gust swept through, "please, come inside. You are no help out here."

He clenched his teeth together, biting back an angry remark."He's got to be somewhere, Uncle, he can't hide forever." He heard his uncle shift his weight from foot to foot, the metal planks groaning beneath him.

"Prince Zuko, please-" The prince in question spun on his heel, cutting Iroh off with a sharp wave of his hand.

"I'll find him, Uncle. I have to." With that, Zuko turned around and faced the horizon once more. He pulled out the eye scope he kept clipped to his belt and held it to his one good eye. For as far as he could see there was snow. Snow and ice. And water. He hated that Agni-dammed water. He hated the snow too. And the ice. He hated this whole forsaken wasteland the water tribes called home.

For hours, Zuko had stood and stared, occasionally glancing through the scope. Iroh paced between the cold inside of the ship and the freezing outside of the deck. Worry gnawed at the old general's stomach; his nephew was never reluctant to fall into obsession, and catching the ghost of an Avatar was no exception. Iroh only hoped that the Prince didn't catch a cold from standing outside for so long without a hat on to keep his ears warm. He knew Zuko was cold, but he'd be dammed if he ever admitted it.

Zuko was, in fact, very cold. The tips of his ears burned, and he had to restrain himself from rubbing warmth into them. Can't lose face in front of the crew, after all. Or his uncle, who he knew was pacing behind him with a scarf in tow. Zuko let lose a slow sigh, bringing the scope to his eye. He swept his vision across the never ending white Angi-dammed snow before him, only pausing when a cluster of snow caught his attention. But no, this didn't look like normal snow. Snow didn't just happen to fall into these particular shapes. No, this snow had been stacked and shaped by man. _The Southern Water Tribe village!_ Zuko spun on his heel, and shouted to his helmsman to head toward that particular pile of snow. Then, he turned to his men and ordered them to prepare to land, while Prince Zuko left to his own rooms, his shoulders back and his head held high.

"Did you find something, Prince Zuko?" His uncle walked briskly to keep pace with him.

"A village. Probably the Southern Tribe," he replied, barely able to keep the excitement from his voice. His uncle hummed alongside him.

"Do you think he could be there?"

"Yes, it's possible." A smile finally began to tug at his lips. It had been almost a decade since any news had been heard about the Southern Tribe, at the time of the last raid. A backwater village with little to no contact with the outside world? It seemed the perfect place for an old Avatar to hide.

Iroh, however, was not so optimistic. There was a reason that no one had made contact with the Southern Tribe for so long, and he believed he knew the reason why. Although, he was not fool enough to break the bad news to the Prince. Instead, he wished Zuko good luck and pushed a woollen scarf into his hands and made a hasty retreat to his own quarters.

Prince Zuko stared at the itchy red scarf in his hands. He knew his uncle all too well. Sighing, he wrapped the material around his neck and stuffed it under his armour, out of sight. He spun open the door to his room and let it slam against the wall. He grabbed his helmet and donned it, glad at least for the protection against the cold.

* * *

The snow crunched under his boots, and the first thing Prince Zuko noticed was the distinct lack of, well, anything. What looked to be a village, was actually just a few falling down igloos and the occasional fur pelt or spear. Zuko motioned for his men to spread out and search the abandoned village. He took a few steps forward, eyes sweeping the area for anything, _anything_, that might lead to the Avatar. The snow continued to crunch under his boots until one step had a crunching and cracking that definitely did not sound like snow. Zuko bent down and brushed the snow away from where his foot had landed.

Beneath the snow, Zuko's glove hit something frozen and blue. He peered closer, squinting. At the realization of exactly what he had stepped on, the Prince reeled back and sat. _A body. _

A body that had been a woman. A body that, upon even closer inspection by the Prince, had been burned to a crisp. Zuko felt bile rise and burn his throat, but swallowed it down and stood. Brushing the snow off of shaky legs, he called out for his men to search for any more human remains.

"Report back to me with the final number, and if there are any signs of life." He nearly had to shout to be heard over the growing wind. "I'll be in my quarters for now," he waited briefly for his men to bow to him, then turned and fled and gracefully as he could.

* * *

Prince Zuko threw himself onto his mattress and laced his fingers behind his head. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to calm his stomach. Zuko would never consider himself lucky, per se, but now he was grateful that he had never had to face any real enemy, never had to fight in any real battle. He had grown up with tales of bloodied violence, but never before had he had to deal any fatal damage. His crew had never lost a man, and his hands were free of blood. And now, staring at the rivets in his ceiling, he was grateful, because surely he would never be able to stomach it.

For the better part of an hour, Zuko stared and tried to think of anything but the burned and frozen woman he had stumbled on. When finally one of his men knocked on his door, Zuko nearly leapt from his bed.

"How many?" he demanded as the door groaned open.

"Fourty-seven, sir. Men, women, and children." Zuko felt the bile rise back into his throat.

"And what condition were they in?" He congratulated himself for sounding so calm, when he was anything but.

"All look to have suffered major burns. Most likely the cause of death." Zuko thanked the no-named man and dismissed him. _Forty-seven people, _he thought as he threw himself onto his bed again. _That was probably the whole tribe. _

Zuko tried to rationalize that, without the Southern Tribe, his nation's victory in the war would be that much easier. He tried and tried to think like the Son of Fire that he was, but deep in the back of his mind he knew that this, this killing of defenceless women and children, was just mindless bloodshed.

_With the Southern Water Tribe gone, the Avatar would have no place to hide down here,_ Prince Zuko pondered. After three long years away from home, it was difficult for the Prince to stay optimistic about his situation. Now, however, he was glad that they could leave this frigid and desolate desert of ice.

* * *

AN; So this is my first fanfiction in about six years. This is also my first ATLA and my first Zutara fic. I've read plenty of fanfiction in my years, but writing and reading are two very different things. So please, please, tell me if you think my characters are OCC. Also, since it's been so long since I've written anything, criticism is welcome. I'm not the best writer out there, and I would love to learn how to become better. Thanks for reading, Cheers.


	2. The Assassin

Chapter 2

_The Assassin_

* * *

Katara's footsteps echoed across the courtyard, and her lungs screamed for air. Her bright blue eyes darted around the landscape before her, straining to see anything in the pitch black night. Behind her, the sounds of the bear-hounds grew louder, their snarls and growls seemed to close in on her. Katara made a quick turn to her left and threw herself into the bushes before pulling herself back up and continuing through the overgrown gardens. She let pure instinct guide her to the river that ran to and from the mansion.

She skids to a stop by the riverbank and takes only a moment to decide. She pushes off the ground and arcs into the water below. She does not allow the water to ripple from her entry.

She pushes herself through the icy river until her feet touch the rocky bottom. Cupping her hands in front of her mouth, she exhales a small circle of air. Then she waits.

She counts to one hundred. Then, to a thousand. Still, she does not surface.

Only when she feels the moon begin to decline in the sky does she bring the water to rush underneath her, forcing Katara to the surface.

It takes her over an hour to finally stop running. When she does, she collapses on the forest floor, gasping for breath. Her legs hurt, her joints hurt, _she _hurts. Katara rolled onto her back, the black sky stretching out before her.

It had been three years since she came under the instruction of her Master. Three long, painful years. And still, the jobs her Master sent her on never got easier.

Breaking in to their homes was easy. Not alerting guards was easy. Feeling her targets' blood spattered on her face, letting it soak into her clothes, that was not easy. Seeing the horror on their faces when she stood before them, twin hunting knives gleaming in the moonlight. Seeing them cry and beg to be spared. Listening as they struggled to breath, gurgling as they choked on their own blood.

No, her job never got easier.

She had made sure that his blood had been washed off in the river, but she could still feel the sticky life on her face, on her hands. She could _always_ feel it. Every night, she would scrub at her skin until it was red and raw and angry. Every night she would bite back the tears that threatened to fall. She never lets them, though. Never lets her tears get the better of her. Because she is an Assassin, and a master waterbender to boot. She is the last of her tribe, and the prodigy of her Master. And if she cries, then she has lost.

Katara lifted her arms above her head, stretching out her fingers so they covered the stars. She idly wondered why the black of night contrasted so beautifully against her blood-stained hands.

* * *

"I heard there was a mishap on your last job." The bartender notes casually, wiping glasses with a worn rag. Katara throws herself into a stool at the bar, and opts to glare at the bartender instead of converse.

"Quite the uproar, this mornin', ya know," he continues, choosing to ignore her hateful stare. "Now, I wonder what coulda happened last night..." he trailed off, winking at Katara.

Katara looped her hair behind her ears and sat up straight in her stool. "You know that I don't do anything for free," she replied easily. The bartended laughed heartily as he began to fix her a drink.

"Little early in the day, don't ya think?" He chuckled, setting down a dark, amber liquor before her. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the drink, and shrugged in response to the bartender.

"He tried to run," she finally answered, after taking a long sip. The whiskey burned a path down her throat and settled comfortably in her stomach. "Manage to knock over a vase before my knife found his back."

"Good to see you made it at least, Girlie." She snorted, eyes fixed on her drink. The bartended dropped a small pouch next to her elbow; her payment. She grunted a thanks and downed the remains of her whiskey before pocketing the coins.

"Let me know if you have any more jobs," she murmured to the bartender. He smiled and gave a light wave. Katara wove her way through the throngs of empty tables and chairs. It was the middle of the day, not a high point for bar life. Even so, there were a few common drunks and gamblers sitting in the dark and dank corners of the pub. They eyed her hungrily as she passed, but she kept her eyes ahead.

She ignored the glances of the villagers as she passed through the market. During the day, she wore her loose black trousers and light grey tunic, but at times like this she wished she wore her black and hooded long sleeved shirt. She could feel the men and women's eyes on her, and she wanted nothing more than to cover herself from head to toe in black and slip into the shadows.

It isn't until a certain pair of eyes fall on her that her skin begins to itch. They are old, grey, and lacklustre, and she knows them all too well. They are the eyes of her Master.

Katara quickly and smoothly darts into an alley way, letting the dark overhangs cast shadows to conceal her. She folds her arms under her chest and waits for her Master to relay her next job.

She doesn't have to wait long.

* * *

Six months. She has six months to kill her next target. Its longer than she's ever been given, longer than she has ever needed, but she still is unsure of whether or not she will be able to.

_"He's headed toward the Southern Earth Kingdom, just North of Kyoshi Island," her Master spoke quietly. They sat in a recluse tea shop, sipping their drinks and speaking just over the din of the market place outside. _

_"He will be heavily guarded," Katara noted, the hint of worry that sat in her stomach did not make its way to her voice. She was, after all, the best assassin that money could pay for and nervousness was not something that clients liked to hear. _

_"It should be no trouble for you, dearie."_

_"How exactly do you propose I go about this? This isn't like any of my other jobs," Katara began to raise her voice, but her Master's pointed stare had Katara clenching her teeth. _

_"This will not be the first time that you have had to get creative..." Her Master smiled over the tea cup, eyes sparkling with dark joy. "And," her Master continued, "if you complete this job, you will have paid me back in full for your training."_

_Ah. So there was the catch. Ever since her Master had found her wandering the streets begging for food, Katara had been trained to become a picture perfect killer. Swords, bows, staves, and knives were her arsenal, though Katara always favoured her twin hunting knives. Although nothing and no one could stop her if she used her waterbending, though she and her Master had dutifully agreed that she should do so only under dire circumstances. And anyone who witnessed her bending would be considered a dangerous liability, innocent or not._

_Katara had always been painfully careful not to bend. _

_Her Master had trained her for three long years, and when she had been told her training was officially over, her Master demanded that Katara pay for her training in full. A dirty trick, she knew, but Katara had little choice but to resign her earnings. But with this job, according to her Master, she would finally be free. _

_To do what, Katara had no clue. Thinking about the After made her chest ache and her stomach twist, so she carefully kept her mind away from the subject. But to be free, that was all the encouragement Katara needed._

_"I'll take the job." She set her emptied tea cup down and began to leave._

_Her Master's voice was so soft as she got up, she was surprised she had heard it. But the words rang loudly in her ears. _

_"It was never your choice, Katara."_

She had six months. Six months to infiltrate and kill, although neither would be a simple task. Her Master had told her to get creative. There were other jobs that she had had to lie and manipulate her way to her target, posing as medics, Sisters, and even whores, but she was certain none of those would help her worm her way into this target's home.

Katara had a lot of planning to do, and only a few days to sort herself out before she would need to find him. Her Master said he would be docking in the Southern Earth Kingdom, and that's where Katara was headed now. Seated in the back of a cart amongst bales of hay, she let the bumps on the road lull her into relaxation.

_"I have six months. What happens if I don't complete the job in time?"_

_"Then you have failed the mission, and will receive no payment." Katara nodded in understanding. This was typical in her line of work. Don't complete the job, don't get the payment, and the job would go to somebody else._

_"However," Katara eyes jerked up to her Master's face, "since this is a more..." her Master gazed around, searching for the correct word, "high-profile job, the stakes are a bit higher as well." Katara lifted one brow in question. "If you fail to kill the target, the client will not be pleased, and your life will be forfeit." _

Katara had nearly choked on her tea at that. If she didn't kill her target in six months, she would be killed, and by the client most likely. They were higher stakes than she had ever gambled with, but she had confidence in herself.

Besides, she would rather die trying to kill Prince Zuko than by Fire Lord Ozai's hands anyway.

* * *

_Hey Guys, me again. Another short chapter too, sorry about that. Also sorry about the distinct lack of Zuko/Katara interaction, but that should change with the next chapter. Hope you guys enjoy, and please review with any questions, comments, or concerns! Cheers!_


End file.
